


To Perdition

by dvs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-04
Updated: 2010-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-09 07:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvs/pseuds/dvs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel watches and waits.</p><p>Miniscule spoilers for <i>No Rest for the Wicked</i> and <i>The Rapture</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Perdition

Dust.

Towers.

Dust.

Towers.

Dust.

This is the route humanity always takes. The route it will always take. Climbing out of the dust and into the towers. Smashing down the towers, falling back into the dust.

So beautiful. So capable of beauty. And all they do is smash.

 

## ***

 

They cry when it's time to die. Castiel is always caught by the absurdity of this. They cry when it's time to return. What is so precious about this dirt and about their towers? What is so precious about their flesh-bound existence?

Castiel tries to understand, but though he can perceive their beauty, their hearts and minds are a different matter from this distance.

So he just watches. This is what eternity is. Watching the way the world turns, burns and breathes again.

 

## ***

 

The world turns. The sun rises. The night falls. The stars burn. Not many seem to notice.

The layers of Castiel's being flutter and shake as the sun's warmth spreads over the earth in arcs and waves. He brightens to his core when the moon reflects the beauty around it.

Even with all those emotions Castiel is not privy to, these humans do not seem particularly moved.

They notice each other. Their faces make the strangest of shapes for each other. They cling and hold each other. Some of them would choose each other even over God. They choose flesh over the Almighty.

The beauty of the Earth, of the people of God, is worthy of prayer and praise. But who chooses something, _anything_ over the beauty of paradise? The beauty of God.

Castiel stands in the middle of a burning desert and looks at the ground and thinks of those who did, listens to them continuing to rage.

 

## ***

 

In a small dwelling is a couple. They have faced many tests. They have endured much and their hardship is not over yet.

Castiel has not heard a single prayer from them. Their silence is deafening. Not a single word.

They lie together, their naked limbs glistening with sweat. Castiel watches him rocking into her body, slow and steady, sees her fingers gripping his shoulders.

"Oh. God," she whispers, before the words are smothered by a kiss.

But she is most certainly not thinking about God.

Humans.

 

## ***

 

Castiel watches. He never quite understands. He watches all the same.

They act as if they'll live forever. As if the end hasn't been written from the moment they're born. They consume each other and all that is around them.

No wonder they can't see the demons that walk among them. They are so consumed by their needs and desires.

They'll notice one day.

 

## ***

 

In that old desert, where there are no people or dwellings, Castiel stands and watches the sun at its height and listens carefully. There is a distant thunder, a menacing rumble. The end of the world is coming. It has been since the beginning of time.

Castiel listens, his presence whipping up the sands into a storm.

 

## ***

 

Some love God blindly, their faith strong no matter what. Some love conditionally, always ready to turn their backs when their prayers are not answered. And some hate with more intensity than love. Whatever human love is.

Some do not think upon matters such as God. They have accepted there is no such being. No heaven. No hell.

The end will not be a pleasant surprise for some.

 

## ***

 

Castiel listens to prayers. Listens to the call for miracles. Watches them weep. Watches them as they sleep. Watches them laugh and smile and hold hands with their family, thanking God for all that they have.

Where do some find their faith, when others have none?

 

## ***

 

Kneeling in the desert, Castiel is a mirage, a ripple in time. He can be walked through, he can be sensed and felt like an errant breeze, but he cannot be seen or heard as he sits and listens.

_no higher power – no God – just chaos, violence – random unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere – rips you to shreds_

Castiel lies in the desert with the sand, searching for the meaning behind those words. Humans are easy to watch. Not so easy to understand. Why can't they just believe in God? In heaven?

You believe in hell, don't you, Dean Winchester?

 

## ***

 

They cry when it's time to die. But then, most of them don't know where they're going. Some of them think it is the end of everything and some of them think it is a new beginning, a reunion, a return.

What must it feel like to know you are going to hell?

Dean Winchester fights hard. He curses and rages and _fights_. Castiel can see why he has been chosen for the upcoming battle.

So much strength. So much fight. Whatever happens, he will not give in easily.

He _will_ give in. But never easily. And never without a fight.

 

## ***

 

_Somebody help me. _

_Sam._

_Somebody help me._

_Sam._

 

## ***

 

Castiel waits. No thoughts pass through his mind. No questions. Nothing. He concentrates on the constant screams. For the longest time imaginable, all he does is listen to Dean Winchester's cries for help.

His job is to wait for the moment the screaming stops. This is why God didn't give his angels the emotions of a human. In an angel, those emotions...

Castiel pushes the single errant thought from his mind and continues to listen to the screams.

 

## ***

 

Castiel kneels in the desert and touches the sand with a nod. The seal has been broken. He looks up into a burning light and hears a distant sound which is the call to arms. They must now save the man who will save them all.

Castiel spreads his wings and leaps in the name of his father.

 

## ***

 

A soul still has the imprint of its body.

The tortured soul Castiel finds, looks every part the man that was Dean Winchester. Except, hell has made him hollow and those open spaces are filled with pain.

As the angels rain down on hell, Castiel reaches for Dean Winchester and grips him tight, lifting him from the claws of this place. Holding him tight, he flees and takes this soul back to its body, back to its flesh. Back into the dust from where it will rise again.

 

## ***

 

He must speak to the human and there is only one way. Reluctant though he is, Castiel finds his devotee.

The human body is beautiful, but weak. The moment Castiel takes his vessel, he feels the cold breeze, he hears the unpleasant mechanical noises of the world and strangest of all, he feels the touch of Dean Winchester's skin on his fingers.

He raises his hand, rubbing his fingers together. This is not the hand that reached for Dean Winchester. Yet, a memory lives here and with it a dozen other memories. Eyes, skin, blood, terror, fear, anger, so much anger.

“Daddy?”

Castiel turns and stares at the child. His eyes feel strange as does his chest. He is not injured, but something seems broken, breaking, not quite right. With him? No, Jimmy Novak.

Turning away, Castiel tells her, “I am not your father.”

 

## ***

 

Dean Winchester, in the flesh. Standing as if he's never glimpsed hell. Castiel cannot help but stare after an eternity of watching from so far away.

“What's the matter?” It's on Dean's face, in his eyes, easy to read from this close. “You don't think you deserve to be saved.”

Castiel thinks of the screams, endless and infinite. He remembers looking upon hell and finding Dean. He looks into the dark of Dean's eyes and finds no sign of a man who thinks he is worthy of being saved him from hell.

There are not many humans who would accept hell as an apt punishment or find themselves unworthy of being saved.

Absurd.

Jimmy Novak's heart trembles as Castiel feels his fingers burn from where he held Dean.

He reminds himself quickly that he is here to carry out God's will. The haunted look on Dean's face is of no consequence.

He closes his fist and quickly forgets the relief of pulling this man out of hell.

 

**the end**

**Author's Note:**

> For Nel on her birthday &lt;3


End file.
